


Just a Job

by kingollie



Category: Until Dawn (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Children, Child Neglect, Depression, Dr Hill being decent, Gen, I mean jack's in deep, Josh has it, Or very implied, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Schizophrenia, The kids are toddlers, This story is actually kinda focused on Jack woo
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-13
Updated: 2018-06-13
Packaged: 2019-05-21 20:24:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14922248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kingollie/pseuds/kingollie
Summary: Jack had been stuck in a rut, a bad one. Still wallowing about he eventually comes across as possible job. The only issue being: children.





	Just a Job

“A daycare? The hell makes you think you can work at a daycare Jack? You're about as good with kids as I am with your damn dogs.” The look he had received the moment he even managed to slip the information into the conversation was nothing short of withering. It was accompanied by a raised, silvery brow, heavily wrinkled forehead and slightly pursed lips. Probably mean to indicate scepticism but merely appearing mocking of all things. “The last time you interacted with a child was that family reunion a year ago where, if I recall correctly, you made the kid cry.”

Jack frowned, both thick eyebrows pinching together, making his own collection of wrinkles apparent too. His nose curled just a little, pulling up at his lip to reveal rather mangled gums and unkempt teeth. It was as though he were snarling at his grandfather, not just reacting to the ‘criticism’.

“Well,” he threw up a hand, voice gruff, “if remember right - which I do - I was just stopping him from trying to smoke one of my cigars. Which seems pretty reasonable, to any normal person.” He leant forward across the table slightly, head inclined.

Joseph huffed, brows scrunched down once more. 

“‘M damn sure he thought you were gonna kill ‘im, anyway he was twelve, wouldn't have hurt ‘im much.” Without casting another glance to his stumped grandson Joseph returned to shovelling food into his mouth, chewing audibly. Swallowing, then: “But seriously I'm certain you probably hafta’ have some experience with kids before now to work with ‘em, plus you don't exactly look.. child friendly.”

“Okay, hold your horses old man,” Jack slid back in his chair, face still contorted into an unflattering frown, “one: this ain't the 1930s, you can't give kids tobacco now, so fuck off with that. Two,” one hand shot up, raising two digits to emphasise, “it’s open to anyone and last time I checked you were the one badgering me to get a job.”

“Yeah, like building or something! Get you outta the damned house, stop you wallowin’ all the time, with all your smokin’ and bitchin’ to me about your problems.” Joseph took another large bite, stuffing his mouth full of potatoes. Jack just scowled.

“No way am I building now, my back’s all but given the hell up and if you haven't noticed - I'm blind in one eye and I have a limp, I ain't getting shit done on a construction site!” Almost mimicking the older man, Jack too began stuffing copious amounts of food into his mouth, not raising his head for a second, face screwed up in false-thought. He wasn't going to be the one escalating this argument today. Instead he stared out his plate, the vegetables and meat upon it, acting as though they were suddenly of interest to him. 

Joseph coughed roughly from across the table, tapping his fork against the china plate. Jack ignored him, making sure it seemed as deliberate as possible.

“When's the, uh, interview?” Jack glanced up to the other eventually, the other man with still staring down at his own food. “For the, y’know, job, I mean.”

“Tomorrow. Eleven-ish.” A small grumble of words, muffled considerable by the food between his jaws. “I dunno what the guy's like, he seems really formal with the way he emails.” Another deep swallow, heaving down the food. “I had to check over my shit writing eight times to make sure I didn't fuck up my chances.”

The other man hummed, nose curled up, obviously in thought, almost intent for a brief few moments. 

“Ya’ gonna cover the eye?” Joseph cocked a brow. Jack all but winced.

“Should I?” He shifted uncomfortably. “I don't wanna scare off the kids but, uh, it'll be weird to explain the eyepatch too. I don't think ‘bear attack’ will really summarise it too well.” The man shrugged, awkwardly fiddling with his cutlery. “I'll just wear it and hope he's polite enough not to ask.”

“The kids will though. They're all nosy bastards at that age y’know?” Jack tipped his head back, dragging his fingers over his face and groaning. “Hey, don't act like you were better, you were a damn nosy thing too!” 

“Damn hell wasn't.”

“Uh-huh, I couldn't do shit when you were young without you constantly askin’ what is was I were doin’. I remember them all. Hell, you wouldn't shut up.” Joseph scraped the last morsels from his plate into his mouth, chewed them loudly, then proceeded to get up. The chair shrieked against the wooden floor boards in protest as he did so, Jack cringed at the sound. “Get used to it boy, children are much worse.” Before stalking off towards the kitchen. 

“Boy?” Jack muttered, his voice a low hiss of irritation. “He fuckin’ ‘boy’s’ me, I'm forty six. Jesus hell.” He too stood, making sure that the legs of his own chair didn't imitate the same hellish screech. 

“I'd be cutting down on your sailor's mouth too if I were you, ain't gonna get a single job if you're always jabbering cuss words every other sentence.” The elder called from the kitchen; God, the man's hearing abilities were uncanny, Jack was certain he'd never got a word out without the notice of his grandfather. So instead of responding he simply grunted, though sometimes mouthy Jack tended to be a man of very few words. “You know I'm right.”

Jack rolled his eyes, slinking into the kitchen not far after his grandfather, scraping the remainder of his dinner ( which was actually most of it, his appetite lately had been null and void ) into the rubbish, blinking down for a few moments at nothing. It was as though he had abruptly lost all semblance of thought, spacing out. 

“You alright over there, bucko? See anything in that shit?” Joseph laughed, a harsh, rough barking sound. Beat. Pause. He seemed to reconsider after seeing his grandson continue to stare solemnly at the leftovers. “Ay, don't overthink it, you'll do fine. Just make sure to take a damn shower before you go, you've been shitty about that for months. Tie your hair back or whatever.”

“The hell? No way, I don't even have anything to do that with.”

“We have rubber bands.” The old man stalked past him, patting him roughly on his right shoulder - at the very least he made sure not to touch the sore parts of his back. 

“Yeah, wonderful.” Jack rolled his eyes, setting down his plate and leaning over the counter to grab at the biscuit tin and a for pack of cigars. He tugged the metal tin close to his chest, then proceeded to tuck it beneath one arm to grasp the cardboard box too. Slowly he dragged himself towards the back garden, settling down on the porch, blinking into the dilapidated, rather scruffy back yard. With its overgrown bushes and tangling brambles crawling up the old, almost dead oak tree. 

That ancient thing had stood there for as long as Jack could recall, it was an ever present comfort just outside. With its heaving, twisting mass of contorted branches and thriving body ( when summer came around ). It was a big, familiar part of his life. Consistent. Or it had been. Recently it had felt less like a ‘friend’ and more akin to a big lump of nothing outside the window. Just there. Real except not exactly. 

The man had woken up one morning, blinking at it, watching the waving branches with doleful eyes. And then something snapped. Or that's what he presumed. Because from nowhere, the connection had slipped through his fingers and it was just a tree once more, a blurry, mass of uncoordinated things. 

He didn't like to observe it much anymore.

It was too much like losing a genuine friend ( though Jack had few ), and being forced to watch them lay there, no longer truly existing. Dead, perhaps. Dead mass.

Without registering it, still deep in his pondering, Jack had wrestled the lid off the biscuit tin, and started digging through the limited pile of snacks, plucking out some choice pieces. The man crammed all three picks into his mouth, chewing noisily, little crumbs of sweet food sputtering out before him. One had raised up to cover his mouth and prevent too much biscuit from escaping. 

As he gnawed on the food he began to fiddle with his packet of cigars, staring, unseeing or uninterested, forward towards the mess of grass and wood. Which used to be a little bench. 

Interview. 11:20, Dr. Alan J Hill. Fuck, he could do that. He'd been going to job interviews for as long as he had been encouraged to work, this wouldn't be any different; or so he told himself. But still, this was the first job he had felt like he really needed, to actually do something with his jumbled excuse for a life. Meanwhile his possible superior was a doctor - of some description. Why the hell would you open a daycare if you were already sporting a doctorate? Jack snorted, not even amused. Some people.

Finally, he produced the desired cigar, rooting through his trouser pocket to tug out one of the lighters he kept there. Flick. And fire. Holding the cigar precariously between his teeth, Jack hunched over to light it, waiting of the end to burst up in a warm orange before slipping the lighter back into his pocket. He looked back to the tree. Still staring back at him.

Fuck. He could do this. Just get the damn job.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi im basing this on some fanart and started writing it just to get into the swing of things again, hopefully it's not awful.


End file.
